


The Sorrow of War

by Pirate_Chief



Series: Tales of Darkness [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Destiny, Origin Story, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 17:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirate_Chief/pseuds/Pirate_Chief
Summary: Before the City, the Iron lords, even the warlords, men and women fought the Darkness, giving their lives beneath the Traveler's shadow.  This story follows one such, an exo commander who faces watching the end of humanity.





	The Sorrow of War

      The exo sat at a small desk, documentation of 30 dead in the most recent fight.  Guardians they had taken to being called by civilians, and even themselves, but he liked the hope it gave to everyone.  Beat being called sacrificial lambs, damn fools, every thought he had as they fought a foe they could never beat.  He sat back in the chair quickly as he grabbed his bottle of bourbon from under the desk, not bothering with a glass as he chugged it, feeling warmth to help relieve the pain.  He would have had carpal tunnels by now if he still had a human wrist, but even the mechanical one was beginning to wear, thousands of letters written every month for years.

      He stood and walked to a balcony, looking to the stars for the small comfort he used to take in the universe.  He searched for hope, but saw a universe with far too few stars, and even the few that remained flickered, as if invisible clouds were covering them.  If only it were such a kindness, as a black cloud of, no, not black.  Black was a color, absorption of light, this was malevolence, eating light, swallowing it and consuming all that lived within it.  2 decades ago he had spoken with Ana and Rasputin, gravitational anomalies beyond the solar system, something new.  All three had felt dread at this, the last new discovery had changed the system so much, but this felt different, it wanted you to know it was coming.  It was doom, as he had seen over these past 12 years, as they lost one world after another, fighting with haphazard weapons, never meant to fight a force of pure destruction.

          He pulled his old revolver from the holster, built in the days after the Traveler was contacted, met, and using the new data the few people who continued to make weapons built a few like it.  Devil series, it had kept him alive over the past years, and helped him save the remains of humanity, and given them hope as they were pushed back to the shadow of the Traveler.  Now he was counting down, to the end, to the death of all humanity, Mars was lost to monsters and machines, Venus was in a similar state, the Moon had seen strange ships collide with its surface, and non-euclidian ships had brought odd beings with four arms and a cunning he would liken to pirates in old stories, or the desperados of his youth. 

          He strokes his lip and chin, an old habit from having proper facial hair, a life he sometimes missed.  Unlike so many others he had never had his mind reset, a necessity to do his job and protect people, made easier because he had never once identified with mankind.  But now he was doing all he could to buy them another day, another minute, all while what remained of them, their legacy, their history, who they were, was lost in a collapse.

          Day break came and Neach-Solais-0 woke with a stir, empty bottle sitting on his desk, body aching from the alcohol, and dread at the day to come.  He looked out the window at the massive white orb, perfect, unblemished, a god that had changed so much, and brought monsters after them.  A groan escaped his mouth as he stood, dragging an armored brown coat over his frame, rubbing his face with a clawed hand, then stepping out to begin work training, sending out necessary orders, and hoping the number of letters he would write tonight would be less than last night’s.  One final glance at the Traveler, and a silent prayer that the next species it found could stop the evil that chased it, instead of dying slowly, lacking any real hope.

          The day went by slowly, more of the same, losing ground here and there, monsters attacking, food scarcity, it never ended.  Neach rested his hand on his belt, looking at the mountains in the distance, dark clouds clinging to them, a bad omen, as if there weren’t enough.  A report from one of his men stated they needed resources to fix armor and weapons, and one scout, a goofy blue exo with a single horn, was letting him know every detail about a nearby group of four arms, and their stash of tech.  The look he received was a combination of forethought and memory of rogues in old tabletop games who always wanted loot, and so Neach approved the acquisition assignment before it was requested.  Some new tech for the researchers, new prizes for the scouts, and enemies gone was a decent opportunity.  That gambler had always been the best trouble, brought hope to everyone, even the cynical exo commander.  One more day.

          Months passed this way, hope, loss, small victories, one day at a time.  A close call with the, oh what was the name, fallen?  A name learned about their foes, a pointless luxury, but it did make reports less clunky and easier to read when drunk.  More commanders had arrived on Earth, several frontlines crushed so that now what little chance existed was gone.  They all sat in the makeshift office, 3 exos, 4 humans, and the gambler running a card game to the side.  One of his group came over to ‘chat’ for a moment, and attempted to steal Neach’s bottle, only to stop dead at the sound of a hammer cocking.  “Points for bravery,” he said, deep mechanical voice slow and deliberate, mild twang resonating in the words while his eyes remained on his report, despite the black gun’s barrel lined up perfectly with the scout’s head, “but bravery doesn’t count much if you die doing something.  You get one glass, and I am not responsible for your actions after drinking my rotgut.”  With that the Devil was returned to its holster across his body, and the scout poured herself a nearly full glass, and left the bottle for the red eyed exo.  The gambler chuckled at his makeshift table, tossing her a silver coin for her courage.  Hope, kindness, humor, even in the face of the dark.


End file.
